


"A New Path"

by adabsolutely



Series: It's the Journey [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adabsolutely/pseuds/adabsolutely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the very clever Amanda is clever.<br/>Follows "It's the Journey"<br/>Thanks to Sipaj for reading over and over and....</p>
            </blockquote>





	"A New Path"

A NEW PATH

by A.D. Absolutely

 

"My gods! I can't believe it. Methos, you used to be the greatest strategist on this planet. What's happened to you? Have you gone mad?"

Ama's outburst came during MacLeod's recounting of his dark quickening, when he had reached the part in the telling where Methos handed the dangerous Highlander the MacLeod sword.

"Hey! It worked," Methos protested.

The majestic Tibetan sighed, then leveled a pointed look at her ancient teacher and decreed, "You need a keeper."

"I've volunteered for the position," MacLeod said, trying not to laugh.

"Well good luck to you, Duncan, I think you'll need it. Do you have time for one more lesson, before you depart?" After MacLeod nodded his consent, Ama turned to Methos, "Father, please tend the clinic for me."

Methos grumbled, but accepted his dismissal from her living quarters. They watched the regal old immortal, nose held high, march to the clinic located in the store-front of Ama's home. There he would treat the few villagers seeking medical aid this early morn.

MacLeod eased into the lotus position on a bamboo mat, ready to absorb more instruction form Ama on how to avoid the thrall of the sorceress voice. But instead of siting she beckoned him with her hand. "Let's try something different today, Duncan. Walk with me." He followed the her out the back door. They strolled along a path that climbed toward higher ground, passing by terraced fields, to a viewpoint over looking the village. There they sat together on a large rock.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Ama asked.

"Yes." MacLeod's thoughts wandered to Scotland. "You love it here."

She nodded. "But I've been here too long, as Methos has reminded me. Soon they will begin to question why I'm not aging."

"So you'll move to another village?"

"Yes, as soon as I find a replacement doctor for the clinic."  
"You should come to London in-between, before you move to a new village. Visit us, and Jen."

"Aye. And I would like to meet this pre-immortal baby that you've been seeking. It's amazing. You travel around the world searching, and Helen discovers the child back where you started in England."

MacLeod nodded, flashed a smile of chagrin, then asked, "I've never met Helen, have you?"

"Yes. She was Jen's student about two hundred years ago. Methos found her when she was a little girl living on the streets of London. He sweet-talked a lady friend of his into raising her, then deposited Helen on Jen's doorstep after her first-death, at a dreadfully young age. Trapped in a teenage body –." She sighed. "But Jen tells me Helen has become a wonderful nurse. She looks too young to be a convincing doctor."

"Maybe she prefers being a nurse."

"Perhaps. Myself, I'm too bossy. I want to be in charge. Isn't that the way with most of us?"

"Immortals? I suppose it is."

"Have you ever thought of practicing medicine?"

MacLeod nodded. "Yes. I've treated the wounded on battlefields. But going to medical school – I don't know. I don't look much like a grad student."

"It would be worth the struggle."

MacLeod shook his head, but smiled. "You remind me of Darius."

"Thank you. I never met him, but Methos has told me stories, about how he changed."

They fell into a companionable silence soaking in the tranquil view of the village.

After a bit MacLeod asked, "Ama, does Jen know Methos' true name?"

"Hmm. Not that I know. I suppose it is possible though."

"But you didn't tell her while she stayed with you here in Tibet for fifty years?"

"Actually we were in Nepal at the time – or what we call Nepal now – but no. She was going through a rather rowdy period. Many of us go through that – fighting all the time. I didn't think it wise. But she is aware that he is an ancient. I will have to admit to taunting him about his age in her presence. She's calmed down, grown up. Becoming a smithy helped, gave her purpose. I'd love to see her, or Helen with this baby. Or you and Methos for that matter."   
"The baby will be safer raised by a mortal."

"I suppose that's true nowadays, with so many immortals hunting. Still most of us are fascinated by a pre-immortal baby. Haven't you always wanted to know where immortals come from?"

"Yes. And no. I have always wondered, of course, but I'm also afraid the truth would be horrible. Why else would it remain a mystery?"

Ama smiled, but whatever she might have replied was lost as they felt the nerve tingling approach of the most ancient immortal.

He sauntered up to them, appearing relaxed and smiling.

"What did you do, chase everyone out of the clinic?" Ama asked.

A bigger smile was his only answer. There wasn't enough room on the rock for a third person so he tucked to the ground, muttering that it was cold. "Well, have you taught him everything you know?" Methos inquired.

"Not quite. I was just pointing out to Duncan how soul soothing the art of medicine is."

"And I agreed with her – I think being a doctor would be very satisfying. But I've never gone to school – well other than to teach history. God – the math –."

Methos nodded. "I can help you with that. I understand completely. That's just how I felt when they invented the zero. I was completely horrified. But I got over it."

They laughed a little, then Methos urged, "We need to press on MacLeod. Back to Nepal. They say a cold front is coming. I'd like to beat it through the pass."

"Who are they?" MacLeod asked.

"The little voices in my head – now don't look at me that way. OK, the meteorologist on the radio."

ONE TIBETAN NIGHT

Methos' toes were bits of ice despite his down sleeping bag. At least their small geodesic tent kept the snow off his face, and the highlander spooned to his backside created an area of heat.

Mac's voice at his ear inquired politely, "Would you mind if I fucked you?"

Sigh. Pause. "I guess not."

Mac nibbled his neck and jaw line, then sucked and bit his ear lobe.  
Again sigh. "I gather you expect me to do more than lie here and take it."

"Aye. We need to generate some heat. You're not the only one in danger of losing extremities here."

Methos rolled over for a serious look at MacLeod. "I'm sorry. How lazy of me." He proceeded with a full frontal warming attack, followed by the quick removal of excess body fluids before freezing to skin.

"Ouch! Good goddess Mac, you use softer cloth to clean your sword."

"Of course."

"Humph! Tell me a story and I'll let you live."

"Hmm – once upon a time there was this pretty thief called Amanda – stop me if you've heard this one –."

"Doesn't sound familiar."

"And her dashing, but naive companion –."

"Scottish I bet."

"So you've heard this one?"

"No, no, keep going I love hopelessly naive companions, especially Scottish ones."

"Now I didn't say he was hopeless. In fact, I believe over the years the naiveté has worn thin and even a few cynical, if not jaded, prickles have appeared on the hide of this companion."

"No! Say it isn't so."

"Sorry. People change, an ancient once told me, and I ken this. Anyway, upon this time, maybe three centuries ago, this pretty little thief – ."

"Medium sized –."

"Shush now – called Amanda came to desire a shiny bauble that unfortunately belonged to a mean duchess who did not wish to part with said bauble."

"Isn't that the way it always is?"

"Inevitably. Yet this pretty – medium sized – thief had a plan."

"Have I ever told you to be careful of people with plans?

"Probably, but I never listen."

"I'm wounded!"

"So was I, when the pretty thief suggested that the companion distract the duchess while she appropriated the shinny bauble."

"Right – me thinks this companion a tart!"

"No, no! That's what I said – er – that's what the companion asked, 'Do you think me a tart?'"

"Give over, Duncan, what did she say, 'Oh, yes.' I'll bet."

With narrowed eyes, "No. She just smiled. This evil melty smile. You know the one?"

"Yes, so I always close my eyes and run the other way, which works well except for the running into things. Then I escape while our dear vixen is having a good laugh."

"I'll try that sometime."

"No. Find your own trick. She'll accuse me of teaching you bad habits. Now where were you? In bed with the duchess I believe –."

"Only after a prolonged and delicate seduction – hey don't laugh so hard, you'll hurt yourself."

"Sorry."

"Where was I?"

"In bed."

"Right. Anyway, it came to pass that the duchess was rather impressed with the companion's efforts, and he discovered to his dismay that the duchess was more concerned with keeping him at her service than finding her lost bauble. Many times he offered to go seek out the dastardly thief, but the duchess was days and weeks consumed with his efforts to – to keep her happy. Methos, you're liable to pull something if you keep laughing like that."

"I'll heal. Sorry, don't hit, I'm sure you were fit to betide."

"Half the time. Actually, the companion knew that the pretty thief had been waiting for him at the rendezvous place all those days and weeks, and was sure to become alarmed. Not to mention jealous."

"Oh dear, what a dilemma."

"Yes, it was a bitter scene. The pretty thief scoured the poor companion's hide with her sharp tongue – and I do not mean literally – for days and centuries. And even to this very day, if the formerly naive Scottish companion should wish to make our dear vixen shout, all that he must do is mention the name of the duchess and wah-la! She is angry and yelling and calling me a tart."

"Sorry, I don't believe a word of it."

"No? Ask Amanda – no wait, don't, don't ask her. She'll kill me for telling you."

"Well we can't have that. Best tell me another one that doesn't strain your credibility."

"No, no, it's your turn."

"My turn? Why you're right! Assume the position, lover." Methos moved to wrestle Mac over.

"Hey, we have to hike the rest of the way back to Kathmandu tomorrow. I need my rest."

"Rest? Since when do Scottish companions need rest? Days! Week!"

BACK TO KATHMANDU AND BEYOND ASAP

Having finally trekked back into Nepal and Methos' home, they found that their Watcher had fallen in love with the place. "I hate to admit you were right, Adam, but Kathmandu is sublime. I think I'll just stay here with your journals and retire." Joe's smile was broad enough to warm both his immortal friends.

"Ah but Joe, my really good journals are back in my London safe."

"OK boys let's pack our bags."

Two days later on the airplane the three men were the only passengers in the first class cabin as they flew back to Europe. Joe asked Methos, "Are you serious about letting me read more of your journals?"

"Very. I can't keep track of all my journals on my own. I end up losing them. So I need to let some of them slip into the hands of Watchers for safe keeping. That's why I invented them."

It was said casually enough, but the old immortal's words caused Joe to gasp, "No! You didn't?"

"If you say so, Joseph."

"Not that there hasn't been speculation, but really?"

Methos smiled. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

MacLeod made a growling noise from the back of his throat. "Not one of your better plans. Sorry Joe."

"No offense taken, and I agree that from an immortal's perspective that our society is intrusive. I find it hard to believe he came up with the idea of Watchers just to look after his journals."

"You realize he will be claiming he was just teasing us in another moment." MacLeod leaned across the aisle toward Joe and pointed an accusing finger at Methos in the window seat next to the Watcher.

"Hey, I don't joke about my journals. I didn't say the society turned out exactly as I planned. The research section is more of what I had in mind than the field watching. Let's leave that blame on Gilgamesh, and his carelessly dying in public. Some people have no discretion."

"Hmm." "Sure thing lover." "Why do I bother."

Their plane landed at Gatwick in the dark of night, and they clamored onto the train below the airport with bags in tow. Disembarking at King's Cross station, they hired a taxi for the journey's last mile to Methos' London home, where they fell asleep shortly before dawn.

DAWN IN LONDON

A measly three hours later the ringing telephone demanded Methos' attention. Untangling himself from MacLeod's soul reviving embrace, Methos snatched up the offending devise. "Pierson," was all that he could manage.

After listening for a couple minutes Methos interrupted his caller, "Still in the hospital? Helen, please get the baby today, don't wait any longer."

By now MacLeod was awake, and absorbing his friend's alarm.

"I know that, but you can do this. It is important." Long pause. "Very important." Short pause. "Thank you. Later." Methos sighed as he disconnected. "Oh good grief."

"What's wrong?"

"She hasn't taken the baby from the hospital yet. Helen says the baby is getting a lot of attention because she was abandoned. And that security is tight in nurseries nowadays."

"Maybe we should ask Amanda to help her?"

Methos looked startled for a moment. "I like it. What a clever lad you are."

"Why thank you. Come back here and I'll show you how clever I can be."

"Duncan –."

"Shush." He tugged Methos back down into their bed.

"Call Amanda first. Please."

"Seriously?"

"Please."

"OK. Is there something else going on here? Are you dreaming about the baby again?"

"Yes. No. I – yes."

"OK, I'll call her now – but then we talk."

"I thought there was something else you wanted."

"I can withhold too."

Methos' lower lip protruded briefly, then he nodded. "Please call her."

Methos waited in bed, while MacLeod left the room to make the call. Both of them surmising it better not to share this conversation.

Methos surveyed the luxury of his bedroom. The jolting contrast between his London home and their rough accommodations in Nepal and Tibet unsettled him. Though MacLeod had shared this home for almost six months prior, it felt wrong now that they were finally lovers. MacLeod didn't belong here. Sleeping on the couch was one thing, but Mac did not integrate well into posh settings for long periods. Methos melded into any environ capable of keeping his books dry, but Mac craved simpler surroundings. They would have to relocate he decided.

MacLeod returned to the bedroom to find Methos staring at the ornate wallpaper. "You OK?"

"Yeah. Is she coming?"

"Soon. She's in Paris. Instead of driving through the Chunnel, I think I've talked her into flying. She has an acquaintance who takes his Lear jet over and back several times a week. If the timing is right she could be here in a few hours." MacLeod crawled in beside his lover as he spoke. "What are you plotting?"

"Your surrender, of course."

"To your every whim, Methos – but later. Now tell me what's going on in that sweet old head."

"Sweet! Rot! The last thing I am is sweet." Methos scowled at MacLeod's teasing grin, then sighed.

"Who has been teaching you to manipulate people? And don't say me – it must be Amanda."

"You can share the credit. Just let me in a bit of the way. I don't expect you to share everything. But I want to help. My intentions are good."

"I know that. I – I have this dread of you realizing just how crazy I might be. Wait." He pressed his fingers to Mac's lips. "We both know I'm a neurotic old sot. Sometimes I've got my calm cool master manipulator mask on straight – then sometimes it slips. It's a bit off kilter just now. This baby thing – you've been patiently following me around the globe as I chase what may just be the noise of an old brain."

"There is a baby."

"Yeah, here in London where we started."

"It was a nice trip; we both needed it. What are your dreams telling you about the baby now?"

"That she is important."

"And?"

A lost stare. "They're not dreams anymore. It's there all the time. And it's a bloody nuisance – I don't believe in prophet's or prophecies."

"I know that about you." Sadly spoken.

"It's just that all the prophets I've ever met have been nuts."

"I think it's a package deal sometimes."

"Yeah, well, I don't want it to be part of my package."

"You have to accept what you are."

Methos narrowed his eyes. "You like to irritate me by turning my own words back on me, don't you."

"It's a time honored tradition. Tell me – what is it that you're seeing about this pre-immortal baby we are getting ready to snatch?"

"There's no _seeing_!" Calmer, "I just _feel_ we're supposed to keep track of her. So – so that you can teach her someday."

"That's all? Doesn't sound very ominous."

"Ahriman."

"Oh shit."

"Exactly."

MacLeod wrapped his arms around Methos. "Don't worry. We can teach her a lot over a thousand years."

(G.S.S.)

"I need to call Anne. She – ." Mac interrupted him with a kiss, then placed a hand on each of Methos' knees.

"It can wait, lover mine."

In lilting voice Methos asked, "Whose hand is this that spreads my legs and touches my heart?"

"We're going to have a talky this time?"

"Yes, please."

Kissing his lover's inner thigh, he worked upward from the knees, alternating from leg to leg. He stopped for a breath, and to comply with Methos' desire. "You make me forget about the swords," he licked the juncture of thigh and torso on the left, "and the regrets," a lick on the right, "you ease my sorrow," one kiss in between accompanied by a gasp, "the pain of lovers lost too soon," then he mouthed each ball.

"You give me fire!" Methos moaned. "Dear Goddess!" "Come here you devil!" he demanded, and emphasized his point by tugging Mac's hair.

MacLeod surged upward for a quick mouth to mouth, but returned to lower regions and the firing of his ancient friend. Mac went down on Methos' cock with no fair warning. A holler replaced the romantic words Methos' now blown mind had prepared. "Duncan!" "Too fast!"

Yet MacLeod showed no mercy, but continued to plunder with teeth, and lips, and tongue. And there was nothing for it, but he must come.

Methos shuddered, his brain no longer able to accept more stimuli, and after the last spasm he crumbled upon himself making a keening noise that could almost be called crying. With joy of his accomplishment MacLeod laughed and hugged the puddle of goo that was his lover.

"Methos?"

"Hm? Oh. You've demolished me, you know. You have the most beautiful smile in the world." Spreading his legs wider, he lifted his hips for the pillow Mac slid under his bottom.

With a bit of lotion MacLeod teased a finger into his lover, Methos hummed in appreciation, but quieted when a second finger began scissoring. "Get on with it – stop tormenting me!"

MacLeod only laughed and continued his thoughtful assault, until Methos did start to cry. "Manipulating bastard," MacLeod muttered as he swiftly replaced his fingers with his cock inside the man with tears on his cheeks.

"Yes! Please, no quarter." And MacLeod gave none, but pounded Methos as though their existence depended on the intensity of their fucking.

OLD LOVERS AND NEW FAMILIES

Methos tingled everywhere. He stretched a kink from his back and blinked his eyes, getting used to the light. He reached out with his senses and decided that MacLeod was in the house, but not the bedroom. Bouncing a few times in the best bed he had ever owned, he thought, 'Going to miss this.'

Then, just for the hell of it, he bellowed, "MacLeod! Get in here!" No response. So he gave up and took a shower, feeling wonderful, and cranky, and edgy, all at once.

When he emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a robe and mist, MacLeod was waiting for him with a beer.

"Ah, thank you. So I've squandered the day in unconsciousness."

"Yes you have. Joe is gone, and Amanda will be here in a couple hours."

"Hmm. Guess I better make that call to Anne."

"I already did. Come help me with the documents."

When Amanda arrived that evening they helped her and her many bags – some of which felt more like they contained burglary tools than clothes – into the town house. Once inside, the beautiful immortal immediately brought up a little matter, "I had an interesting conversation with Anne Lindsey recently. We were planning a Paris shopping trip together –."

"Has the media been alerted?"

"Shush old man. She told me all about the nice dinner you shared at her house, before your trip to Tibet, and asked me how long you have been fucking?"

"No. Anne did not say that," MacLeod stated.

"Well perhaps not in those words. All the same, why am I hearing it from a third party? Two of my best friends get it together, and don't have the balls to call and tell me themselves."

Much to everyone's surprise (including Methos') he was the first to speak up and defend their lapse. "It's just been a couple weeks, 'Manda. We hardly know what we're doing yet!"

"Sorry." MacLeod added, staring down at his feet.

She gave him a misty eyed smile, then a hug, then turned to Methos and gave him a gripping hug. "Keep him safe."

"I try. Hey, no crying." He brushed a tear from her cheek.

"Tell me about this heist. What are we after?"

"You didn't tell her?"

"No. Just that it was a rush job, and that it would be a first for her."

Methos suppressed a laugh. "I don't know Mac, she may not be able to handle this. I doubt

she knows anything about –." She pulled out of his arms.

"Listen old man, I'm over a thousand years old, I know a thing or –."

"Hell, when I was a thousand years old I still thought the world was flat."

Mac asked, "You really thought that the Earth was flat?"

"Yes, not that I thought about it much."

"Alright, you two. What is this thing you want me to steal that I don't know anything about?"

"A baby." Methos whispered.

"A baby! Are you crazy?"

"I'm afraid I might be." Deep sigh. "The baby will be one of us. We need to shelter it. Anne has agreed to raise her with Mary."

"Wow. Cool. Wow. I need to sit down a minute and think." She collapsed into an easy chair. The men exchanged nervous glances until Amanda regained her perkiness. "OK explain."

"Methos has been having –."

"Let's skip that part. A student of a student of mine is a nurse at the infants' unit of St. Mary's Hospital. This new baby was abandoned in the waiting room. Same old story, no one saw who left it. You'll need to talk to Helen about the security. I'll call her now." Methos hurried into his library to make the call.

After a few moments of staring into space, Amanda stood and walked over to Mac. Standing together in the middle of the great room they faced each other, eyes locked for what seemed like years to both of them. Finally, Amanda said, "I'm going to miss you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Ah, but you're already gone."

He wrapped his arms around her and patted her hair. "Things are different, but not our friendship. I'm still here for you. And so is Methos."

"I know – still it feels like a chapter ending."

As he entered the room, "Helen is on – her way," Methos voice fell. He took in the sadness on Amanda's face when she turned to look at him.

"Oh, I'm missing out on another hug." He marched up to them and removed Amanda the rest of the way from Mac's clutches, wrapped his arms around her and whispered at her ear, "Ma famille."

HELEN SAILS IN

In less than an hour Helen arrived. 'Doc Adams' introduced her as Helen Hampstead, but she corrected him, "It's Helen Stephens now." She lived in a tiny angular teenager's body. Her face was pretty, but her movements were graceless compared to the three powerful immortals who had met first-death in their prime.

Methos snickered to himself – he could see MacLeod's auto-protect mode activating as the younger man evaluated the tiny woman. It looked as if there would need to be another lecture about appearances being deceiving.

He sat them all up with tea at the round glass table in his kitchen, and provided Helen with paper and pencil to draw for Amanda the layout of the St. Mary's nursery.

Amanda questioned Helen about cameras and security guards.  
"It's good that you work the night shift. Still it might be a good idea for me to tie you up when I take the baby."

Methos frowned. "Suspicion will still fall on her." He turned to Helen, "Are you prepared to relocate?"

"Yeah, like you taught me, Doc, though I'm not happy about it. I like my job and life here."

Methos nodded. "Ama needs to move to a new village. You could go help her."

"Tibet!"

"You don't have to go of course, but she would like to see you."

Helen's animated teenage face settled into a frown, registering her opinion of his tactics.

"I'll finish the documents for taking the baby out of the country while –." Methos fell silent. A blank visage rapidly cycled through surprised to delight. "I have an idea!"

"Oh no!" A chorus of three.

"Why didn't I think of this before? So much simpler."

Methos explained; Amanda argued. Finally she agreed that his new plan was safer for the baby. A couple hours spent hunting up the costume, then Sister Amanda was ready to collect the baby, paper work in hand to present to Helen at the nursery. Seems that the powers that be thought to minimize the trauma to the staff by moving the baby to the orphanage after hours.

So instead of stealth – Amanda's preferred modus operandi – she brazened out the snatching in a nun's habit. Presenting the papers to Helen and leaving calmly with babe in arms. MacLeod waited nervously in the patient loading zone; unused adrenalin making him ache.

AT LAST FROM YORKSHIRE

Jen Todd-Boyd arrived from Yorkshire the next morning to meet the dream baby her teacher had chased around the world. She walked into his kitchen to see him holding the tiny pre-immortal, feeding her a bottle of milk, a look of serenity on his face. MacLeod, who had escorted her in, offered her a cup of tea.

"Would you like to hold her?" Doc asked. For a moment it looked as though Jen would say no, but finally she reached out with her strong sword-smith arms, and nestled the babe to her chest. The serene look transferred. After a few minutes, "I want to teach her when it's time."

"I'm to be her teacher," MacLeod spoke up.

"Lucky child, a roomful of teachers," Doc soothed. They nodded.

"Where is Helen?"

"Still answering questions. I suspect her job is forfeit. Perhaps you'd help her find her way to Tibet. Visit with Ama for awhile."

"She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself."

"Oh I know that. She's just not very happy about the situation."

"Feel guilty for interfering with people's lives again, Doc?"

"Certainly not. Impertinent child."

"I'm eight hundred, Doc, not a child."

"And I'm five thousand, so you _are_ a child."

Opening and closing her mouth several times before she smiled and said, "So you're finally telling me. I don't have to pretend I don't know anymore. Can I call you Methos?"

"No. And I'm not ready to tell Helen."

"OK. Strange old –."

"What?"

"Nothing. This bottle is empty, now what?"

"Here, you put her on your shoulder like this." Methos helped her get the babe into position to burp her.

Amanda entered the kitchen dressed in a bathrobe and laughed to see Jen holding the baby. "Hey, Jen, looks good on you."

MacLeod asked, "You two know each other?"

"We go way back."

"Yeah, Amanda helped me re-appropriate a sword that a customer took without paying for."

"Hm. Sounds like an interesting story."

"Oh, not really," Amanda said vaguely. "When are we taking the baby to Seacouver?"  
"We'll need a private jet. I think I'll promote you from Sister Amanda, to the birth-mother giving up her baby to a friend more capable of raising her."

Amanda touched the baby's head, looking sad. "All of us immortals with empty arms – so swift to give her away."

"Amanda, she'll be safer with Anne." MacLeod sighed. "We'll still be a part of her life."

"I know."

Jen said, "Here, you hold her for awhile." The baby burped as Jen handed her off to Amanda, who sat down at the table with the infant wedged between her forearms across her lap to get a good look at her. "What are we going to call her?"

"We weren't going to give her a name in the documents. We thought it should be up to Anne. But as the 'birth-mom' you could give her a temporary name."

Amanda thought for a moment. "You're right. It should be up to Anne, but I want to be there when you hand her the baby. To see her face."

THE MEN FROM SEACOUVER

A week later, a private jet landed in a hobby field east of Seacouver. Anne and Mary Lindsey stood hand in hand on the tarmac, the eight year old bouncing, eager to meet her new sister. With them waited a familiar figure holding a cane. When the jet stopped moving the three of them rushed to the steps that were extending form below the aircraft's door.

First to emerge from the jet was MacLeod. "Joe! How did you get here before us?"

"Oh, I get around."

MacLeod turned back to the steel steps, reaching out a protective hand as Amanda descended with the baby; Methos brought up the rear. Mary was about ready to fly apart by the time Amanda reached her mother, so MacLeod scooped up the little girl so that she would have a better view. Anne held out her arms and Amanda transferred the bundle. Tugging back the receiving blanket Anne saw the face of her new child for the first time.

"Sweet baby. Oh my, I think you were right, Mary. I think she is a 'Monica'."

"Come on everyone. I've a van waiting." Joe herded them away from the Jet.

Lagging behind, Methos and MacLeod struggled with the luggage. Methos asked quietly, "In which part of town shall we search for a house? Near Anne, or Joe's? Or should we be more centrally located?"

MacLeod smiled, but didn't look as surprised as Methos was hoping for. "How about near the University?"

"You want to teach again?"

"Maybe. Maybe take some classes. But I was thinking about you. I need to keep you busy. Keep you out of trouble."

Methos just grinned, feeling a rare serenity in his quiet mind.

"Out of trouble? That's no fun."

(end)


End file.
